in the corner of that dusty old attic sits the dollhouse.

blue paint chipping, cobwebs hanging, but

beautiful as ever. the dollhouse is the ladle

of memory you forget, it was your favorite thing in the world

and now here it sits in the dark, its little windows bolted shut.

the agony and despair you have felt in your life

was shared with this little house. some day you will look back at

this sad little house and remember the good times, the bad times,

and most of all the little doll sitting in the window, watching from

within. that doll you held dear, it was the biggest thing in your world,

it was a piece of your soul, the thing you feared, the creature in the dark

and now it sits waiting patiently for revenge, in the little dollhouse

you left it in.

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